Category Archives: dear diary

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Reading.I’ve been in a reading slump. I mean, I’ve been re-reading old favorites like Potter and Narnia but nothing new. This often happens to me when I’m in a fragile state creatively. I tend to compare and get envious. Anyone read anything amazing lately that I just MUST read?

Cleaning.It’s taking me one billion years to get my room clean. I’m legit so messy. Ugh. My friend posted this on Insta the other day, and it is so apt:

YELLOW

Men. I’m crazy about a boy who is less crazy about me. I’m not naive here, and even though he is the sweetest, most fun guy, he is also flaky and has a lot of baggage. (I mean, don’t we all??) It’s hard to explain without giving away secrets that aren’t mine. I have enough self awareness to know that I should probably move on– but also know myself well enough to know that I’m not ready to do that. (Yes, he’s the boy referred to in the One That Got Away poem. I even showed it to him.) He makes me happy.

Writing. It’s still in the yellow zone for me. It’s a combo of fear and lack of time and energy. I will get there. Yellow means slow, right? 🙂

GREEN

PT.I started physical therapy, and even though I’m only a couple days in, I love it! I’m really excited about it– and hopeful!

Sleep.I love my new mattress! Review of the mattress and of the Sleep Sherpa showroom coming soon! I’m also really jiving with my CPAP. It’s just a totally different world when you get quality sleep for the first time in years. 🙂

Growth. I’m trying to become the woman I want to be. It’s good. Hard. But good.

Someone posted something on Instagram recently (and now I can’t find it) about life at 18 vs. life now. It occurred to me that it’s been 18 years since I was 18, and of course that intrigued the writer in me. So I thought I’d explore the comparison of those two milestones in my life.

At 18 …
I wanted to be a published author, along with all the glamour that came with itAt 36 …
I am a published author, along with all the stress and anxiety that came with it

At 18 …
I had undiagnosed OCDAt 36 …
I’ve been in remission for a decade

At 18 …
I thought true love was just around the corner and I’d likely be married by 22At 36 …
I still hope true love and marriage are just around the corner

At 18 …
I was so extroverted I had to force myself into 10 minutes of being alone each day, at the urging of my favorite professorAt 36 …
I am so introverted I have to force myself to make plans with people

At 18 …
I could eat breakfast food for every mealAt 36 …
I can eat breakfast food for every meal

At 18 …
I had always been ultra-thin, but felt like a kidAt 36 …
I’ve battled with weight issues for over a decade, but (usually) love my curves

At 18 …
I had almost no health issues (outside of OCD)At 36 …
I’m a web of interrelated diagnoses

At 18 …
I wanted to know that God found me acceptableAt 36 …
I know he does

At 18 …
I had spent one semester at NorthwesternAt 36 …
I have spent 18 years at Northwestern

At 18 …
I didn’t even know yet that I enjoyed the company of children or teensAt 36 …
Kids are my purest joy, and I write novels for teenagers because I love that stage of life

At 18 …
I hadn’t even met most of the people who would be my friends as an adultAt 36 …
I continue to amass the most incredible friends this earth has to offer

At 18 …
I had not yet read any of the books I would later say had changed my life (outside of the Bible)At 36 …
I’m excited about what life-changing stories are still ahead

Stayed home sick today, which feels both lame and necessary. I had to cancel an appointment with my therapist AND had to miss the first day of the writing class I’m auditing.

Really not ideal.

But it is what it is, and I’ve decided to use today to practice some self care AND be productive. In other words, I’m in sweatpants on the couch, the complete Harry Potter movie collection is on HBO Go, my computer is on my lap, and I have a glass of cold milk beside me.

Hi friends, I thought I’d just ramble a little bit about life, if that’s cool.

Even if that’s not cool. 🙂

The summer has just been blazing by, which is so wild. Usually June is a quiet month in admissions at my university, but this June was the busiest I can remember in my fourteen years in this role! It’s fun– but also a little hard to not be able to catch my breath during a season I was expecting that opportunity!

I spent the 4th of July [extended] weekend working on the novel, and I polished up the first 10 chapters (approximately 75 pages) in a way I’m really proud of. Stay tuned to see if my editor agrees. There are a couple issues that I still need to figure out. Tomorrow I’m getting a massage, and I swear: I have some of my best ideas while lying on that table! Fingers crossed.

Online dating is maybe the craziest thing I’ve ever experienced, apart from writing a book, although in all completely different ways. This summer I keep switching my profiles “off”– on most sites, you can hide or suspend your profile– in order to recollect myself and get a little work done. I am talking to someone now who is sweet and fun and intentional … which means I am probably a week or two from screwing it up. #optimist

One thing I am trying to do this year is to be intentional about making sure my friends feel loved. I am trying to learn their love languages and care about them in the ways that they appreciate most (versus the way I feel most comfortable). This has actually been really, really fun and meaningful: sometimes it looks like coffee and conversation, sometimes coming up with the most perfect gift that will make them laugh, buying a gift card for grocery delivery, handwritten letters. Yesterday I got to have a video call with an overseas friend. I plan to continue this experiment/experience/intentionality throughout the year and hopefully next.

I’ve read some great books lately. I’ll post reviews soon.

Tell me about you. Please. Leave a comment about anything in the whole world.

Then again, I’m still standing. I’m still moving forward. I can smile. I can (mostly) think straight. I’m doing really well with my creative goals. I know we’re only three weeks into the new year, but I’ve read a book a week, have blogged every week, am learning something new almost every day (though I need to be more intentional about writing things down), and feel really good about getting back to work on Salt Novel.

I had a great conversation with my editor on Wednesday, and I feel like we are on the same page (or pretty close!), and that is such a relief. Now I’m doing a little brainstorming this weekend and then BACK TO WORK on the story next week. I’m excited. I haven’t worked on it in nearly three months (!!!). It was a much needed break, but I’m ready to go again.

And my 35th birthday was wonderful! I felt very loved, and a handful of people even donated to help with the refugee crisis. I’m so honored and so in love with my crew.

So, you’re probably thinking: just what has been so hard about 2017 then, Jackie?

A lot of panic and anxiety. Realizing I have old wounds that never healed properly. I’ve taken about 10 Ativan pills in the course of two weeks. That’s probably more than I took in the whole six months preceding it. It’s okay. My friends and coworkers have been so exceptionally kind and thoughtful and supportive.

That said, God’s got me. My friends and family do too. And Northwestern. And I am learning so much about myself– honestly, so much. Some are things I really like.

For me, being a perfectionist means that writing a book can be a slow form of torture. You see, it takes a long time for a book to even begin to resemble perfection. You have to spend months, even years, sitting uncomfortably in the middle of a mess, working through sloppy drafts and chasing rabbit trails into very disorganized forests.

Or maybe that’s just me.

In any case, it’s a continual lesson in learning to enjoy the process and not just the product. If I only enjoy the product, I will get to be happy about 24 hours out of every three years. This is a journey of embracing uncertainty, letting myself wait in the cold water till I begin to adjust.

And that’s the story of my life with OCD too. Heck, the story of my life, period.

I– a perfectionist, an OCD survivor– want pretty things in pretty boxes with pretty bows on top. I– an artist, an OCD survivor– know that’s not what life looks like. Life is full of doubt and wrong directions, wasted time and imperfect choices. Life is full of discomfort and years and years and years of tolerating discomfort … with the hope there is a pretty thing in a pretty box with a pretty bow at the end. But it is not guaranteed.

So, is art in general– or writing specifically– a difficult career choice for a perfectionist? Heck yes. But it’s fulfilling, worthwhile, hard, dirty, beautiful work– and it is helping me appreciate this fulfilling, worthwhile, hard, dirty, beautiful world.

Honestly, I’ve been heartbroken since the election, and when I try to blog, anything I say feels a little trivial in comparison to what this country is facing. But I trust in a God who personifies love and grace, truth and justice. That is not lip service. That is not a platitude. I really do trust him, or at least I am trying.

And so, while I will continue to fight for the underdog, today I’m not going to write about the election. I need to hammer out a few posts while letting the outcry for justice stir in my heart before I figure out how to put it onto my blog. I’m not sure if that makes sense to anyone but me. Just know that it is never far from my thoughts, even if I do not write about it for a little while.

Instead, an update on my life (for you sweet readers who care enough to wonder!):

Salt Novel

Iturned in my draft about two weeks ago. It feels so good to have it out of my hands for a little while. I know it’s not there yet, but it is improving the way drafts do: slowly, and then all at once.

(Okay, couldn’t resist the TFIOS jab there.)

Of course, it’s not like I can just “turn it off” after spending 10.5 months in that world. I am still thinking of my characters, and I’m especially working on brainstorming titles. Titles are HARD, y’all. Makes me feel for the poets and songwriters who have to title each piece and not just the collection.

What are some of your all-time favorite book, poem, or song titles?

Reading

Right now, I’m about halfway through Illusion by Martina Boone. It’s the third book of the Heirs of Watson Island trilogy. I’ve also started or am starting a few books of poetry: Yes Thorn by Amy Munson, who teaches at my university; Ultra-Cabin by Kimberly Lambright, a friend from undergrad; and The Rain in Portugal by Billy Collins, always a delight. I’ve purchased a small truckload of YA novels, but I still need to get myself back into reading mode after being in full-on writing mode.

How about you? What’s the best book you’ve read lately?

Winter

I’m never ready for it. Snowed in Minnesota this weekend, and it’s snowing now. My book event for tonight (up north) was cancelled (my choice), and I’m fighting those winter blues, where all I want is to be in bed.

Do you like winter? Tell me why. I need to hear positive thoughts about it.

Anniversary

On this day in 2013, I had my first conversation with my editor at Harper and first announced my book deal on my social media. And then promptly had my first panic/anxiety attack that wasn’t OCD-related. So I think back on this day with mixed feelings. But OH how I have grown in the last three years. So much growth, so much healing. It’s maybe ironic that this morning I reached out to my therapist, not even because I’m in a bad place. I just felt prompted to contact her last night while I was praying. We’re gonna meet up next month and chat. I’m delighted.

Hope you are all well! I’m hoping to post a lot more frequently in the coming weeks. I miss hearing from you. Drop me a comment please. It helps to know you’re still there.

Hi folks! I’m typing on my laptop keyboard, something I haven’t done in a while, since I use an ergo keyboard at home and at work. Unfortunately, my home office desk chair is broken, and while I thought I could make due with another chair, it’s murder on my back. So instead I’m sitting on my couch with my laptop, how and where I wrote Truest.

I can’t believe my baby has been in the world for over a year now. It’s also crazy to think that I’ve written two other manuscripts since finishing Truest! My broken chair and my work schedule have put a kink in my writing rhythm as of late, but these things happen. Life goes on.

I’m reading a book called Pain Free at Your PC by Pete Egoscue, and he addresses how hand/wrist pain can’t be blamed only on the hands and wrists. The exercises I’m doing are actually more related to the hips and have made me think I need to ask my chiropractor to measure my legs and see if they are still different lengths like they were in elementary and high school. At first my left leg was just 1/4″ shorter than my right, but they assumed it would correct itself. However, when I was next tested for scoliosis, my left leg was now 1/2″ shorter than my right. To be honest, I’d forgotten about this, since the only time it was ever really noticeable was after a full day of intense walking (like a day at an amusement park, for example). But reading this book has made me wonder if this might be the root of some of my injuries.

Salt Novel

My gosh, I’m so close to finishing this draft, you guys. But I think that is sort of freaking me out and I’m self-sabotaging a little bit, scared to show it to my agent and editor, knowing that it is still very flawed. I need to find the time and drive to just hammer through it and turn it in. The sooner I get feedback on it, the sooner I can correct those issues. I went through a brief time in my life (post-undergrad) where critique didn’t faze me. I realize now that that was because the critique was all from peers at that time, whereas before that it was from professors and after that from publishing industry professionals. There is for sure a power imbalance (perceived or real) that affects that. Also, I’ve realized that I need to take into account the culture differences too. The difference between Minneapolis and New York City is far more than just 1,200 miles.

Sleep

I sleep with no sleep aid now. I’m so, so, so grateful to not have to rely on anything but good ol’ Circadian rhythm to sleep.

Reading

Halfway through Leigh Bardugo’s Crooked Kingdom right now. Next up will likely be David Arnold’s Kids of Appetite, although Jennifer Nivens’s Holding Up the Universe just came in the mail this weekend! I also have a book by Cheryl Klein that I really want to start, The Magic Words. It’s about writing for children and young adults.

Election

I can’t wait for it to be over. Seriously, what a mess. I consider myself an advocate for the marginalized and will vote with that in mind.

Adulting

I paid to have my home deep-cleaned this weekend. I recognize that is a privileged statement, and I’m grateful to have the means to do so. Honestly, it felt like something that needed to happen in order for me to move forward with so many of my other goals. Next weekend, I have a handy man coming to the house to fix up odds and ends and my desk chair, and then I’ll truly be poised for success.

Northwestern

I honestly feel so grateful to be part of such a beautiful community. Right now I am especially loving the current writing majors and recent writing grads. It’s such an honor to be part of their lives. They are so talented, thoughtful, generous. They care so much about words and story and beauty, and they make me better person.

Your turn: a) What have you read recently? b) What are you looking forward to this week? c) What thing or person has added value to your life lately?

I love the writing rhythm I’m in right now. It feels good to sit down nearly every night and hammer through something. It’s been quite varied: some nights I will sweep through two chapters and others I will spend all evening on just 250 words. It all feels good. I am just now running into the part of my story that I have the least experience with; I am trying to tap into raw emotions over situations I’ve never been in. It’s intimidating, to say the least. But I keep rotating between my desk and my prayer journal.

I just binge-watched Stranger Things on Netflix and quite enjoyed it. (And I don’t even enjoy being scared … but I do love a good psychological thriller.)

Waiting for my copy of Melina Marchetta’s new book Tell the Truth, Shame the Devil to arrive. In the meantime, I re-read Saving Francesca and its companion novel The Piper’s Son. (P.S. Salt Novel, my current work-in-progress, was born out of The Piper’s Son + a “what if.”)

Jacob Wetterling’s remains were found on a farm in Paynesville, MN. His abduction hit way too close to home for those of us who grew up in central Minnesota, and this has been a question that people my age have had for most of our lives. I remember when he was abducted in 1989. I was seven years old, and St. Joseph, where he was taken, is only about 20 miles from where I lived. Paynesville, where he was found nearly 27 years later, is about the same distance. The man who led them to the body was living in Annandale, just 11 miles from my parents’ house. This case has changed both MN and national laws, and while it is a heartbreaking ending to this decades-long mystery, I hope it will somehow bring the family some closure.

I am sleeping much better (and with NO sleep aids)! The insomnia doctor I’ve been meeting with is the kindest, gentlest, sweetest man. I am so grateful for the way he has thoughtfully pursued answers to my long-standing issues with sleep.

Work has been insanely busy– due in part to the last-minute closing of another private school in Minnesota (we ended up with maybe 8 or so of their students transferring to UNW and registering late) and in part to the implementation of new software in my office. But I feel good. I feel like I’m doing some of my best recruiting I’ve done in years. I am overflowing with creative ideas. It’s like a dam burst.

I’m thinking ahead to next month– which includes OCD Awareness Week– and planning to meet with the OCD Twin Cities team to plan a special event for it. (Anyone have ideas?)

My parents’ dog had puppies! Five purebred German shepherds– four chubby dark-colored male pups and one little all-white girl pup. In all our batches of puppies over the years (to different dogs), we’ve never had a purebred white shepherd before!

Well, I’d better get back to the manuscript. It’s being fussy.

Love,
Jackie

P.S. What’s going on in your worlds? I always love to hear from you, friends.